The Golden Rule
by chrissie0707
Summary: Tag for 15X06 "Golden Time." Self-recrimination is an unflattering but familiar color on Dean. As much as Sam hates to see his big brother wallow and kick himself over another close call, it means whatever part of himself Dean disengaged after learning God wasn't as gone as they thought, he's rounding the corner. Just like Sam knew he would.


_Author Note: This one is for Nova, who wanted some thinky Sam thoughts after the last ep. I can't ever turn her down. I'd write her whatever she wants, and have, for many years now. She's pretty awesome._

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**The Golden Rule**

"You did good today. I did jack."

"You killed a witch," Sam says, because his brother needs it. "Saved my ass."

Dean needs it, but he won't take it. "Yeah, I guess so."

Self-recrimination is an unflattering but familiar color on Dean. As much as Sam hates to see his brother wallow and kick himself over another close call, it's better than bad jokes and holing up in his room to marathon cartoons, because it means Dean's working his way through this funk. It means whatever switch his big brother flipped after their encounter with Lilith, whatever part of himself Dean disengaged after learning God wasn't as gone as they thought, he's rounding the corner. Just like Sam knew he would.

It had been a rough couple of days, after _how the hell are we supposed to fight God? _And for the most part, Sam let it go. He dug into researching God and Lilith the best he could, and he didn't say anything about the 9AM whiskey breath, and he didn't push the issue too hard when Dean bowed out of the trip to Rowena's place, because he always knew if things went pear-shaped, his brother would be there.

No doubt, Lilith did some damage to Dean. The demon delivered calculated strikes that cut deeper than flesh. But Sam himself may have been the one to deliver the knockout blow.

_You're just telling me this now?_

Peace isn't something either of them feels often. Contentment, even in the face of so much loss. Mom is gone, and Jack. Cas is who knows where, doing who knows what, but there had been that sense of _freedom_ that made everything feel not quite as awful as it should. Sam wasn't about to take that away from Dean until he was absolutely sure he had to. Until that last dream, or vision, or whatever – until the Mark of Cain and the First Blade and black eyes, all he'd seen were versions of himself killing Dean. Brutally. Over and over. There was no need to bring that up. He's made enough mistakes over the years, screwed over his brother enough to accept that he's earned some unsettling dreams. It wasn't until Dean repeated what Lilith told him – _Chuck only like one kind of ending. You kill me or I kill you – _that Sam put it together.

Even then, it wasn't the gut punch for him that it was for his brother. Instead, it strengthened his resolve, stoked that perpetual, inherent fiery defiance inside. Sam doesn't feel like slightest hesitation as he tells his brother, "we have moves to make here, Dean. We do."

Dean still won't take any bit of Sam's reassurance. "I don't know what's God and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy."

Sam gets that. He feels _that_. Each of them has made some giant, game-changing decisions. Dean selling his soul to bring Sam back, or bearing the Mark of Cain. Sam trusting Ruby and not looking for Dean in Purgatory, taking on the trials to close the gates of Hell only to stop at the last minute. Those choices that seemed to flip the script entirely…what if they _were _just part of the script all along? How much say did they really have in any of it?

He pushes the thought aside, squaring up to the table. "All I'm saying is we'll find a way to beat him. We will." Sam believes it, and he tries to make Dean believe it, too. And then he plays a little dirty pool, dropping _I can't do it without you_, and _I need my brother._

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows he isn't leaving Dean an option. Dean doesn't know how _not _to give Sam what he needs, which is something he's taken advantage of more than once. Sam doesn't know exactly what Eileen told Dean to get his ass on the road as quickly as he did, but he figures it didn't take much more than "Sam needs you." Even when it seemed Dean had all but tapped the mat.

So Sam throws that "I need my brother" at him, and waits.

Dean doesn't say anything, just stares across the table, fingers wrapped around a sweating beer bottle.

He doesn't have to say anything; Sam already knows his brother has turned that corner. He's got on real pants again, at least, and has downgraded to beer. It won't be easy, coming all the way back and getting into the fight, but Dean will do it. If Sam knows his brother, and he does, Dean will be in a piss-poor mood for the next day or so as he starts to level out, as opposed to the familiar defense mechanism of constantly cracking jokes.

Sam pushes his unopened beer aside and raps his knuckles on the tabletop. "Get some sleep, man." He shoves his chair back from the table and leaves his brother alone to stare off into a distance that stretches beyond the bunker.

Dean will fight for Sam, and with Sam. He might not know it yet, but Sam does. That's just the way of the world. Sam's watched his brother climb out of darkness and find his way back time and time again. He'll do it this time, too. He's been feeling down lately, lost and off-kilter, but he doesn't know how _not _to fight. Not Dean Winchester. He won't take any bit of this lying down.

_This is God we're talking about. G-O-D. Wouldn't be too worried about finding him. He'll find us._

_Let him, _Sam thinks.

They'll be ready for a fight when he does. _Both_ of them.


End file.
